Vow
by Pyinfinite
Summary: Some things cross a fine line. Like her name on his list.
1. Stasis

He was going to kill her.

Just as he had planned so many weeks ago.

It would be simple enough to do: just razzle her with a good shag, breakfast in bed, and then a drop of antifreeze to her orange juice. Just a drop.

That was the plan, classic, but he'd hesitated as she sat down at the breakfast table instead, so he made breakfast there. Talked about some irrelevant things, and she spoke about "that bitch" from accounting. It was all perfect.

She'd opened up the newspapers in search of the coms, which greatly obscured her line of sight on him.

He thanked GOD.

It was very discreet as he hovered his hand over her glass and emptied the syringe hidden in his sleeve. After all, it was just a drop.

She laughed heartily as she tried to compose herself enough to tell him the contents of the joke, he gave a chuckle of his own accord.

She wouldn't know.

The paper came down and she smiled at him.

He stared.

Confusion laced her brows but he couldn't come out of the catatonic state she put him in and so on he stared.

She laughed him off and reached forward, and the last moment he eyed the butter knife.

The table crashed to the ground onto its side splintering upon contact.

Her smile died with confusion and mild horror, but he assured her of a black widow that she now climbed the kitchen counter to get away from. For a while, he scoured through and underfoot for both his sanity and the bug. With safe distance, she offered him her morning slipper, fuzzy and blue with ugliness. He skimmed her face with husbandly reassuring words of confidence. Her facial reply was incorrigible.

The rim shattered cup was used to capture the dastardly creature, but with her mild curiosity, it became a smear before her cautious counter dismount. He frowned with exhaustion, hands having no time to rest on his hip because they guided her away from the sight and up the stairs to get dressed for a nice day out. Her head peering vainly around him.

She doesn't argue.

He found it comical the way she allowed him to befuddle her senses with pure falsehood, but nevertheless, it was nothing to undermine entirely.

The possibilities for tables are endless, five minutes into the drive and his interest has piqued irritation. Most women would babble on about clothes and shoes and jewelry, but he was not a fortunate enough man to marry someone like that. Instead, he had to retain crafting ideas that included resin with pencil shavings, or more so glittery rocks. She told him the term he was looking for was glistening, yet the sound is weird and he frowned. He presumptuously asked if she meant wet and there was a sadistic joy in the way the topic hovered to ice cream.

Their marriage isn't consummated.


	2. Vain

Heyo~ I'd like to thank you for reading this story, and double thank if you've read the other chapter!

I'm a _lattedepressed_ so they won't all be the same, but I'll try for your sake, be so kind as to review I can take the criticism!

Without further rambling Please enjoy!

* * *

She hesitated.

 _Not_ because of some brazen offhanded comment he'd gone and made about her very fictitiously built frame, or the manly gesture of ownership he'd give to her when in public that would often earn him a rebuking smack with a glare to match.

None of that happened.

Instead, she stood there like a statue before a man he'd seen more than he'd like, not that the relationship the two held at one point mattered a penny's worth to him. It was just an annoyance for him to see her in such a pathetic state, looking up at the guy like a deer would a hunter who couldn't understand maturity. Unsure and unsuspecting, the hunter is human with indifference on his face. Most game that had experienced brothers in nature, knew the difference isn't always clear until the shell casing is on the ground, but he was her first in many ways.

A tired sigh left him to find amusement in the horribly aged white wine in his red cup, the couple clearly didn't go all out on expenses despite the fairytale feel the backyard wedding held, even still, people crowded the spaces available, so the space around his spouse gave a tickle in his throat that died under an intense grunt. Had the words they exchanged so many months ago meant anything to him it would be upsetting, but this was just an act that compensated handsomely. Besides, he put a pretty nice gem around her neck witch a kickass last name.

Amidst the celebratory ambiance, a shrill cry from a man with green hair drew his attention from the trainwreck he stood lurking, showcasing a scene most would bother to cherish to memory, one he'd usually skim past in a porno. The bride sat behind the table embracing the man to her overly exposed cleavage, toying with the baby booties he'd given her. People nearby marveled the exchange, some approaching the groom and his attention swept immediately, soon leaving the deer to spectate in shadows. She'd been shot down. Again.

Very suddenly the cup containing the poorly aged wine, cracked in his grasps spilling onto the face of his suede shoes. Eyeing the thing for a second showed the steady stream leaked from the protruding bent point of the cup. Silent curses left his lips drawing the attention of a few nearby kids who eyed him cautiously as he held the cup at bay. One more glance towards her emptied his thoughts. It was just her, standing stiffly, yet again putting him a catatonic state. He startled the kids by shoving the cup into the hands of one very curious brats leaving him to the swarm. If anything the parents would thank him forty minutes from now.

In the time he'd come to know her, the tiniest quirks instantaneously gave him a clue about her mood and honesty, from the silent smile of anger to the sigh of defeat, it annoyed him to crack down on unfamiliar expressions as Oprah only provided so much intel in between giving shit away and commercials. Keeping notes on these things had just become easier for him. There was nothing more to it, just seeing her stuck to that as a deserted mannequin irked him. No one stopped to check on her, not one person took the spot that a friend should, so she stood there alone.

She wouldn't be like that. Not for long at least.

At first, she startled at his touch, spinning quickly to relax at his face, greeting him with a smile of late nite quiet crying in the shower, and he could only stare. For a while, her mouth moved with words that he truly couldn't find a fuck for, but gave reassuring husband grunts of encouragement. Even though satan chose fan out his balls, the clouds gathered with subtle winds the pollen causing her sniffle. Her eyes reflected stars the more she blank into his hard eyes, but his mouth pressed together tightly. He's seen plenty of women cry, and even caused some of them in bliss. This shit was just beyond him in many ways, so he'd have to try to understand. Being gentle wasn't a strong suit, still, he pulled her close and used her head for a chinrest, her fuss lacked ambition as she curled her body into him regardless of him being, "An ass from mars."

No cheesy music played, even if music played his ears didn't pick it up, because whatever the hell was in that wine made the world around them dim just enough for peace.

He figured a buzz is better with closed eyes, but he'd much rather soon be home in bed with a face full of tits to enjoy it with. Given the softening of her body against his own, he hoped it would be soon.


End file.
